Mutt Jones and the Flute of Fire
by Asher Elric
Summary: Mutt is sent to meet his Grandfather in Utah while his parents are on their Honeymoon in the Caribbean. While there, he makes friends with an Indian boy with one quest - to find the Flute of Fire - and return his family to honor.
1. Utah Bound

**Mutt Jones and the Flute of Fire**

**Fandom - Indiana Jones**

**Paring - Indy/Marion**

**Disclaimer - I do not own.**

**Notes - I will be making up 'legends' for my Anasazi Characters. So unless I specifically state that this legend or that is a real one, plese treat all legends as made up by me. We shall call it creative licensing.**

**A/n - None**

**Chapter 1 - Utah Bound**

"Think of it this way," Marion Jones said with a smirk of a smile on her round lips, "This visit to Grandpa Jones will give you more of an understanding of Indy," she laughed. Mutt gave his mother the evil eye. He knew that married couples go on Honeymoons, but he didn't know why he had to go to Utah and spend the rest of his summer with an old man he knew absolutely nothing about.

"Mom, why can't I stray with Oxley?" Mutt asked, for the fourth hundredth time. The answer, he knew, wouldn't change. But, he had to try.

"Oxley is in need of a quiet holiday and its never a quiet holiday when the Jones' are around," Marion giggled. Mutt put the last bag into the back of the white car. They had taken a side trip to Indy's home where they had been staying for the four weeks since their trip with the Crystal Skulls - They would all be arriving at the same air port, however, Mutt was bound for Utah while his parents went to help an old friend on a dig in the Caribbean.

Mutt wished that he could go, but, he didn't want to hear any weird noises coming from their bedroom - so, in a way it was a good thing that they would be separated for a little while. He shut the boot of the car and turned back to his mother. In side, Indy was giving the house keeper last moment instructions.

"Don't get yourself kidnapped," Mutt said.

"We'll be fine, its you I'm worried about," Marion replied.

"Me? I'm only going to spend two months in a small town with, gee, I don't know, NOTHING to do!" Mutt rolled his eyes. Marion brought him into a hug.

"It's dangerous for a Jones to get bored," she muttered into his ear.

_ _ _

The plain came to a stop in what looked like a corn field. Mutt tried to hold back a sneer but it didn't exactly work. All he could see was brown, yellow and speckles on the ground. It wasn't green, not like New York. He missed Indy's home all ready. He had been enamored with it when he had visited first, when he and the Professor had been researching Oxley's letter.

He liked the old place. Maybe Grandpa Jones wouldn't be all that bad, possibly have even older stuff than Indy. Mutt had to admit that the artifact Indy had was something of a curiosity, it had gotten him to the library on more than one occasion. Mostly because he didn't think that Indy would tell him what it was or where it had come from and the story of how he, Indy, had come across it in the first place.

Possibly - that was something that Son learnt from Father - and now he was learning it, though, he wondered if it was more of a learning tool than anything else. He did have hopes of passing the history class when he finally did go back to school.

Mutt exited the small, ten person, craft and looked around. He had his two bags with him, and was bereft of his Motorcycle, which had been found in Peru and sent back to him. Thankfully, nothing was missing and she was in good shape but Indy hadn't wanted Mutt to bring the machine with him - because people didn't like loud noises.

Mutt made his way to the only building beside the tin hangar that housed the plain; it was a very small gift shop, well, it was supposed to be a gift shop. It looked more of a saloon as he stepped inside. There was a soda bar, thank god. He made his way towards it. He sat down beside a man with white hair, he wore a brown tweed suit, wore wire rimmed glasses and he had that chin.

"Pepsi, please," Mutt said to the Barista. The old man had water, it was getting brown by the blowing dust. Mutt pulled a face.

"So, uh…do you know where Mr. Jones' home is?" Mutt asked all of a sudden, "You see, I'm his grandkid and I'm visiting for the summer," he explained quickly. Some how, it seemed that this man liked simple and concise sentences. He liked people to make their point and leave him alone.

"I don't know about his home," the man's deep Scottish accent made Mutt relax a bit, "But you've found Henry Jones Senior Senior," he replied. Mutt almost fainted dead away.

"You're Indy's Pop?" Mutt asked.

"If you mean Henry Junior, than yes," the man replied with a small smirk.

"I'm Mutt," he held out a hand, Grandpa Jones took it into his. Mutt's soda was served and he took a long swallow.

"So, why Utah?" Mutt finally asked.

"Its quiet, no one bothers anyone else," Henry replied.

"Did you have adventures like Indy?"

"Sometimes, but Junior is more adept at them than I ever will be," Henry laughed, "Tell me, _Mutt_, what is your official full name?"

Mutt cringed; "Henry David Jones Jr."

Henry laughed.

_ _ _

The house was a two story home that was painted brown, had a nice little vegetable garden to the side, and behind the house was a barn with two horses. Henry Showed Mutt the property first, then the house.

The property was huge, as far as Mutt could figure, enough room to exercise the horses without going onto someone else's land. Some of the land had belong to some Anasazi friends that Henry knew and had bought from because they had been in need of the money.

"The Indian Reservation is twenty miles from here. You'll know it when you come to a fence, don't cross it," Henry warned. Mutt nodded. He didn't even know how to ride a horse, so that wouldn't be a problem.

There was a small apple orchard that started besides the horse coral and went on for the long miles of the property till - in the distance - it came to several log cabins.

"Those were built by Elsu, or Flying Falcon, as he likes for most people to call him," Henry explained. Mutt nodded.

"You'll meet him tomorrow, his family is going to come and have dinner with us, I told them that you were coming for a visit,"

"That's cool, Grandpa," Mutt smiled in trepidation.

- - -

A/N - Elsu does mean Flying Falcon, I didn't make that up. I don't know it what Indian language that is though.


	2. Flying Falcon and Ringing Bells

**Mutt Jones and the Flute of Fire**

**Chapter Summary - Mutt meets new 'friends' and an old Enemy turns up.**

**Chapter 2 - Flying Falcon and Ringing Bells**

Mutt could sleep anywhere he pleased. His extensive travels with his Mom and Oxley and now shared with Indiana - had brought much practice. Though, he found that sleep alluded him and this found him in the kitchen of his Grandfather's home.

Someone had made cookies, and Mutt helped himself to a couple with a large glass of milk and the news paper. River Loup News, owned and edited by a 'River Loup". Mutt pursued it for several moments, and wondered if there were other copies. One article caught is attention soon enough

_Rene Belloq to begin dig in River Ruins_

_By - Sarah Running Hair_

_Rene Belloq, born and raised in France, is making his second trip into the American Midwest in the search of an ancient Anasazi artifact. The Flute of Fire. _

_Legends say that this Flute was given to Running Stream, the wife to Holding Bear - for protection against their enemies. Like the Ark of the Covenant, whenever this Flute was carried into battle, the enemies of the Anasazi were defeated. However, a Warrior from a warring Indian Tribe of unknown origins, wanted the Flute for his own gain. So, he slowly worked his way into Holding Bear's tribe - until, at such an opportune time that Wife and Husband went for some 'alone time' out in the forest - The Warrior stole quietly into their tepee and stole the Flute. _

_It is unclear as to where the Flute has gone or what this Indian Tribes name was. What is known, though, is that the Flute must have been passed from Father to Son for several centuries. Each who held possession of the Flute was buried with a copy while the First Born Son - or so we suspect - kept the real Flute. _

_Rene Belloq had announced this past weekend at the Institute of Indian Artifacts, that he aims to gain the Flute and return it to its rightful owners. _

_If tradition is upheld, that would mean that Flying Falcon is to take possession of his families long lost heirloom. If this Flute is the fabled Flute of Fire, we shall not know until it is unearthed - but if it is - Glory shall be given to the Anasazi people and thanks given. _

Mutt had to read the article again. Flying Falcon…? Then it clicked. Flying Falcon was the name of his Grandfather's friend who they were to have dinner with that evening. Mutt put that on his mental list of questions to ask his Grandfather when it was a normal hour for a person to be awake.

_ _ _

Henry Jones Sr. gave Belloq a very unhappy look. The man had been a thorn in his, and Indy's, side ever since they had met at a dig in France. Indy had more painful experiences with the man - but all Henry knew was what his own circumstances had led him.

"You want to dig on my property?" Henry asked. Not because he was confused about the situation, it was more of a delaying tactic. To gather information. To make the enemy take stalk and step back for a moment before blundering on.

"I have taken a lot of time, Dr. Jones, to find the last Indian burial site in this god-forsaken state - and I am not about to give it up because some old man stands in my way," Belloq had leaned forward in he chair he had invited himself to. Henry cocked his head and was about to say something when Mutt walked in, a long fencing sword in his hands.

"Hey! Stop threatening my Grandpa," Mutt said harshly. He hardly knew the man and yet Mutt felt as if it was his duty to challenge this man.

"Junior," Henry admonished, for a moment he could see a very young Indy standing there, whip in hand. Mutt subsided at that single word.

Belloq smirked and got to his feet; "You remind me of someone," he said as he stepped past Mutt and turned to make his way out of the house.

"Oh, yeah, who?" Mutt asked.

"Indiana Jones," Belloq replied with a smirk before strutting away. Mutt watch silently for a few moments until he heard the spring-door close shut sharply. He turned back to Grandpa Jones, who was contemplating the young man before him.

"Grandpa, was that Rene Belloq?" Mutt asked. He lent the sword against the book case and took the chair Belloq had cast aside.

"That was, do you know of him?" Henry asked.

"A little, no one really likes him. From what Oxley and Mom say, he's a no-good-greedy-bastard," Mutt replied.

"Watch your mouth, Mutt," Henry waved a finger. But the admonishment was softened by a smile.

"Sorry," Mutt replied cheekily.

"I haven't had a lot of interaction with the man but Junior has," Henry went on.

"Hey, why did you call me that? Indy does, sometimes," Mutt said, almost embarrassed.

"I suppose I should call you Junior-Junior, then," Henry laughed. Mutt shook his head.

"I prefer it if you didn't,"

"Too late!"

_ _ _

Moon Dove hummed as she stirred the beans. Tonight they would have beans with cornbread and a nice cake. Flying Falcon sat in the front room of their small cabin. The children were playing outside, Moon Dove could hear all of their play screams and she smiled.

"Honey, did you tell Falling Off Horse that he needed to give up the wine?" Moon Dove turned to her husband.

"He said he doesn't drink wine," he replied distractedly.

"Good, he's too old to drink," Moon Dove chuckled.

"Mmmmmhhhhmmmmm…."

"What is it?"

"The article by Running Hair," Flying Falcon replied.

"What did she write this time?" Moon Dove asked.

"The truth," he replied and handed the paper over.

- - -

Mutt didn't know what he was expecting. But a very nice family wasn't it. Flying Falcon was a husband and a father, Mutt could see that. He was tall, had long black hair, sun tanned skin, and a large smile. His wife, Moon Dove, was skinny, sickly so, her hair was braided and just as long as her husbands. Their three kids had the same dark black hair and dark eyes with the tanned skin.

Flying Horse was the eldest at sixteen. He wore a headband with turquoise sewn on to it. Mutt recognized the single Eagle feather that stood straight up in the back. His sister, Screaming Star was fifteen. She wore a day dress of pale yellow and her hair was up in a bun. Little Rabbit was the youngest at two years old. The young child reached out for Mutt right away and started crying when Screaming Star wouldn't hand him over.

"Could you?" she asked, giving Mutt a slight look of desperation. Mutt nodded and took the child into his arms. One arm under the child bottom and another across Little Rabbit's back. The child smiled at him and Mutt wondered why he didn't have any siblings. His Mom had had plenty of time. Maybe she was just happy with one child. Nonetheless, Mutt hoped that he would have held any younger sibling such as he was holding Little Rabbit right then.

"So, this is Mutt?" Moon Dove said with a smile.

"I'd shake your hand, Ma'am, but I don't want to drop the baby," Mutt gave her his most winning smile and she laughed.

"Is Little Rabbit making a nuisance of himself?" she asked.

"No," Mutt shook is head.

"Good, because Screaming Star and I have to get dinner on the table," she gave him a wink and pulled Screaming Star behind her. But as Flying Horse went to 'help' she held a hand out to him, which meant for him to stay. He gave his mother the evil eye as she disappeared inside.

Flying Falcon and Henry made for the study and that left Mutt with Little Rabbit drooling all over his leather jacket, and Flying Horse, looking most perturbed about the whole situation.

"So," Mutt started, "I read 'bout your pops in the paper," that had to be safe. Act interested in the other family. That usually started things out well.

"Yeah, Running Hair, for once, did her job well," Flying Horse sighed.

"Sarah Running Hair?" Mutt asked.

"Well, the 'Sarah' is for the general public, we just call her Running Hair, she's my Aunt," Flying Horse explained.

"That's cool," Mutt replied.

"Yeah, and your pop is Indiana Jones, that's so much cooler," Flying Horse replied.

"Ha, you would think so, man it's a pain," Mutt shook his head.

"Yeah?"

"Oh yeah, the Russians kidnapped a friend of the families and then they got my Mom - then I had to rack Indy down to rescue her, then she tells me he's my biological Pop…the whole thing was a pain," Mutt gave the nut of the story. Flying Horse didn't believe it, the sneer on his face told Mutt everything he needed to know.

He had been fanciful as a child, making up stories of grand adventures to get out of classes at the many schools he had gone to. This wasn't first time. It wouldn't be the last, the one thing that was different this time…

Was that he was telling the truth.

- - -

The dinner table should have been full of conversations. The children holding their own while the adults monitored but talked of adult sort of things, like politics and history. Instead, Henry Jones Sr. kept up a riveting (aka boring) lecture of medieval literature. Mutt was a bit put out and angry because Flying Horse hadn't given him a chance as a friend. Screaming Star had tried to be nice, but was shot down by her older brother. It seemed that only Little Rabbit liked him, at least, to smile.

"So, Mutt, where do you come from?" Moon Dove asked. Mutt perked up at this.

"London, England. I was born there," Mutt informed her.

"Oh? Is London a good place to live?"

"Its okay, I traveled with my Mom and a family friend mostly, went of to boarding schools but those never turned out right for me," he scratched the back of his head.

"School is very important," Flying Falcon put in. For the sake of all the children, of course.

"Yeah, that's what Indy keeps saying," Mutt replied nonchalantly.

"Falling off Horse has told us that you were told just recently that Indiana was your real father," Moon Dove said, she shot a significant glance to her son, who went red in the face. Mutt ignored this.

"Yeah, it was…odd, to say the least," he then blinked, "Wait, I'm sorry but…who is Falling Off Horse?" Mutt asked.

"Your Grandfather," Moon Dove smiled, "We tried to give him riding lessons, but he fell off so many times that we gave him an honorary name," she continued.

"Oh? Wow," Mutt shook his head.

"I don't suppose you know how to ride?" Flying Horse asked.

"Boarding schools teach you everything," Mutt replied, "And Russians, they teach you stuff too," he joked. Flying Horse nodded and Screaming Star looked happier for that.

- - -

TBC


End file.
